


While I Wait, Part 2 - Treasure It Always

by badskippy



Series: Bagginshield One-Offs [31]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst and Humor, Fluf, Fluff and Humor, Happy Ending, Humorous Ending, M/M, Near Death, Requited Unrequited Love, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 21:15:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13796496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskippy/pseuds/badskippy
Summary: Thorin is fading.  He is not long for this world.  He needs a miracle to survive.Many have called Bilbo Baggins a miracle.





	While I Wait, Part 2 - Treasure It Always

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aquileaofthelonelymountain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquileaofthelonelymountain/gifts), [Neeka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neeka/gifts), [nerdeeart](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=nerdeeart).



Many wanted a follow-up to my little one off ... [_While I Wait_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13787658) ... well, here it is.  One can still read this on its own if they so choose.

 

* * *

 

            _“Did you tell him?”_

_“I did not.”_

_“Why?!”_

_“I would not have him stay on my account alone.”_

_“Did it not occur to you that he may have stayed, had you but asked?”_

_“I had no wish to take from him his choice. His freedom is more important than my own selfish desire.”_

_“Thorin—”_

_“No, Balin. Master Baggins deserves all that he wants, even if that want is for a home other than the one I would give him.”_

_“And what of your wants?”_

_“We parted in friendship. I will not presume to ask for more.”_

_“As precious as friendship is, it is a poor substitute for what could be!”_

_“It is enough.”_

_“Is it?!”_

_“It will have to be.”_

That was the end of the conversation; Thorin turned and walked away at that point. That was six weeks prior. Just six weeks. And Balin, along with the remaining company, was shocked at where they were now.

 

\-----ooooo-----

 

            The king lay upon his deathbed. Pale and incoherent, refusing food or drink, suffering from nightmares and fits of melancholy, only speaking in a harsh whispered voice, one name; Bilbo.

            Dain Ironfoot paced the halls during the day, unsure, like most of the rest, not of _IF_ he would take the mantle of King but _WHEN_ , should Thorin pass from the world.

            No one, not even Ori with all his books, or Dwalin with his many views of death, or Balin in his historical knowledge or Oin in his years of experience, had ever heard of a Dwarf dying of The Fade. Such a thing was common for Elves, not unheard of in Men, rare in what little was known of Hobbits, but never seen in The Children of Mahal. Yet there could be no doubt as to what Thorin was going through.

            Just a little over four weeks after Bilbo Baggins had stepped foot outside the Kingdom of Erebor, Thorin had taken to his bed. He was tired and exhausted, but not from work. Granted, he had kept up a fevered pace during the day, overseeing the recovery of the kingdom, helping the city of Dale, salvage, and cleanup of Erebor. But it was his heart and soul that ached, and it was these that finally could take no more, forcing Thorin to retire to his chambers. From that point, there was little to be done.

            Balin, although ordered not to, ignored his King and sent out a raven, nearly every day, in a different direction, with orders to plead with Bilbo to return. Although asking a raven to plead, proud and stubborn as they were, was like asking an Elf to dance a jig. But what else could he do?

            Kili had offered to get Tauriel and search for Bilbo; surely Bilbo was not out of Mirkwood yet, or at least not far beyond it if he were.

            Thorin said no.

            Bofur volunteered to go with Bifur and a few others and ask Bilbo to come back.

            Thorin ordered the company to stay.

            Dain even suggested that he could send out Ram-riders. They would be swift and could return much quicker. But some pointed out that Bilbo might feel that he was being pursued, not persuaded, and may well feel threatened by having a group of armed Dwarves come thundering up behind him.

            Thorin would not hear of it; Dain was refused.

            And so they fretted and waited, hoped, that Thorin might recover. Tauriel had offered and tried her best to heal the king, but while she could have healed his body, or drawn poison from his veins, Thorin's injury ran too deep; his heart was broken.  And once broken, the heart was not so easily fixed. She could do little more than make him comfortable.

            “This is intolerable!” Dain said in a harsh whisper as he and Balin conversed outside Thorin’s room. “I am tempted to send out my riders. To Hell with Thorin’s decree!”

            But Balin shook his head. “It will be bad enough if he recovers and finds I have sent out Ravens. Sending riders will be unforgivable.”

            Dain growled out his frustration. “He was a stubborn, pig-headed ... _goat_ in our youth! He is no better now!”

            Balin smiled sadly at that. “Oddly, when Bilbo is around, Thorin is not so implacable, he is relaxed and joyful. Bilbo brings out the best in Thorin.”

            “Not now he isn’t!” Dain shook his head. “I do not understand this ... this _attraction_ to the Half-ling! What is it that Thorin finds so fascinating?!”

            Balin shrugged. “It would be easier for one to answer the question of life itself than try and explain Thorin and Bilbo.”

            The door to Thorin’s chambers opened and Oin exited, carrying a tray loaded with food; food that was untouched.

            “Still nothing,” Dain stated, giving the tray an angry look.

            Oin shook his head. “Not a single spoonful. I will try again at dinner.”

            Balin cleared his throat and asked the question he had to ask but did not want to. “How long, Oin, before ...?”

            “The point of no return?”  Oin sighed grimly. “Two days.”

            “ _Two days_?!” Dain was incredulous.

            “Maybe three,” Oin said. “Though ... I think that overly optimistic.”

            “I’m sending riders,” Dain said, turning to go.

            But Balin’s hand on Dain’s arm stopped the Dwarf-lord. “It’s too late. They will not find him and return in time.”

            The three stood there, silently, each knowing what it meant. They had only two days for a miracle, or else Thorin would go to The Halls and Dain would be king. Oin felt hopelessly useless; what good was a healer that could not heal? Balin was grieved; with all Thorin and Bilbo had done to win back the mountain, how could it have come to this? But Dain was angry. Angry with Thorin for being stubborn, with Bilbo for being selfish, and with them both for his position; he would never be able to return to the Iron Hills again.

 

\-----ooooo-----

 

            The night wore on and the hallway torches burned low; the mountain was quiet. It would, therefore, come as no surprise that the guards outside the king’s chambers would doze here and there, nodding into slumber for a few minutes.

            It was during one of these catnaps that they failed to notice the door to the king’s chambers open slowly and close again as if a silent spectre had entered and then politely shut the door behind him.

            But it was no ghost that haunted the halls.

            Bilbo removed his ring, once inside, and gazed upon the bed where his love lay. Even in the dim glow of the hearth’s embers, Bilbo could see that Thorin was pale and thin, slumbering in unease. Oh, how it pierced him to see Thorin so still and sickly, so broken.

            He cursed himself.

            He knew perfectly well the feelings between them but had convinced himself that it was better that he leave, that he give Thorin his peace, that Thorin would live happier without him. What could he offer Thorin? His love? _How little that was,_ Bilbo had thought at the time. _Practically nothing._

            Bilbo had not appreciated that what he thought was nothing, was actually everything to Thorin.

            “You silly Dwarf,” Bilbo whispered sadly, gently caressing Thorin’s face. Thorin murmured Bilbo’s name and Bilbo’s resolve was set; it would not end like this! He saw a full dinner tray – beef broth, bread and water, all untouched – by the bedside table. _Right_ , _first things first._ He quickly stoked the fire, setting the bowl of stone-cold broth by the hearth, then returned to Thorin’s side. “Thorin ... here.” Bilbo held the cup of cold water to Thorin’s lips. “Drink this.”

            Thorin shook his head, trying to push the cup away. But he had not the strength to even succeed against Bilbo.

            “Please, Thorin. If you ... if you _love me_ , you’ll drink this.”

            Thorin opened his eyes, barely. “Bilbo ...” Thorin’s voice was hoarse and guttural.

            But it was a beautiful sound to Bilbo’s ears. “Drink, love.”

            Thorin’s lips parted and he drank.

 

\-----ooooo-----

 

            Oin steeled himself to what he would find. Would the king still breathe? Would the blood still be moving in his veins? Or would Oin find Thorin cold as stone in his bed? As much death as he had seen in his life, that last thought still sent a chill down his spine. But it was possible. As gruesome as it was, death was all too possible. Opening the king’s chamber doors, Oin stopped, staring at the bed-curtains pulled closed, so that what lay there was hidden.

            He was dead.

            “Go fetch, Balin,” Oin said to one of the guards and to the other, “Find Lord Dain.”

            As the guards took off, Oin slowly advanced toward the bed, taking a deep breath and ready for what he would find. He grabbed the drapes and pulled.

            “Good morning.”

            “Thorin!”

            “Shhhhh!” Thorin insisted.

            Oin could see the light had returned to Thorin’s eyes and the king’s colour had come back if but a little. That was when he noticed the dinner tray; the broth, bread, and water were gone. Consumed obviously. Oin was almost speechless. Almost. “What in the name of Mahal—”

            “Quiet!” Thorin hissed out in a whisper. “You’ll wake him.”

            Him? Oin was confused for a moment and then realized; Thorin was not alone. Bilbo was curled up next to Thorin. “Where are on Earth ...”

            “Like a dream, he arrived in the middle of the night.”

            Oin would not contain his happiness. “Thank the maker!”

            “It isn’t the maker I have to thank,” Thorin said dryly.

            Dain arrived at just that moment. “Cousin!” Dain boomed the moment he saw Thorin but before Thorin could quiet him.

            Bilbo was up like a shot at that. “What’s going on?! What’s happening?!”

            “It’s all right,” Thorin said, pulling Bilbo closer. “Just Dain’s dulcet tones.”

            Bilbo stretched and said with a yawn, “You mean they heard in Mirkwood.”

            “At Beorn’s more like it.”

            “Sod you both!” Dain said with a laugh.

            “Thank the maker!” Balin said as he arrived.

            “I already did,” Oin said, as he pulled back the rest of Thorin’s bed-curtains.

            “Mahal had nothing to do with it,” Thorin said with a narrowed look to Balin. “You’re the culprit.”

            Balin smiled sheepishly. “I take it that a raven found him.”

            “Indeed,” Thorin said.

            “Many ravens,” Bilbo said, sitting up. “By the time I arrived back, I had a flock of them following me.”

            “I only sent out ten!” Balin swore.

            “Ten would constitute a flock,” Thorin said dryly with a cocked eyebrow. “I thought I said no ravens.”

            “You also said,” Bilbo stated, “No riders and no one from the company.” When they all looked at him stunned, Bilbo clarified, “The Ravens told me.”

            “Tiresome birds,” Thorin said with a shake of his head.

            “What’s tiresome,” Bilbo said giving Thorin a pointed look, “is that you let it get this far and you still did not send for me. Why?”

            Thorin looked rather sheepish. “Can we ... discuss that when we are alone?”

            “No,” Bilbo said flatly. “I should like to be angry with you.” He reached out and brushed the hair off Thorin’s face, placing it behind his ears. Bilbo sighed. “But I cannot be. I simply _cannot be_ after finding you in the state that I did. So, why didn’t you send for me?”      

            Thorin looked at his kin, but they would not help him and finally nodded, giving in. “I did not want you to feel that you had to come back or that you were not free to come and go as you please. I would not impede your right to choose your own path.”

            Bilbo sighed again. “Staying for love is hardly a hardship. And did it not occur to you I might have chosen the path that led back to you, had you told me how much you wished me to stay in the first place?”

            “That’s what I said,” Balin offered quietly.

            “I have not fully forgiven you yet,” Thorin said.

            “But you will,” Bilbo added, definitively. “You most certainly will.”

            “Yes,” Thorin confessed, giving Bilbo a soft smile. “I will.”

            “I’ll go have the kitchen prepare breakfast,” Oin said.

            “No broth, please,” Thorin asked.

            But Oin was not buying it. “You’ll have broth for the next few days until you are much further along in mending.”

            Thorin hung his head but didn’t argue.

            “I’ll tell the others the news,” Balin announced. “And tell them to give you peace for at least today.”

            “The boys will be here in no time,” Thorin whispered to Bilbo.

            “I know,” Bilbo agreed with a chuckle.

            “Well, now!” Dain clapped his hands together. “All’s well that ends well! Thorin can keep the damn crown, I can return to my hills and Bilbo can become consort!”

            Bilbo nearly choked on his own spit.

            But Thorin shook his head. “All that is true, but only if Bilbo chooses.”

            “And, um...” Bilbo licked his lips. “If I refused the consort’s crown?”

            Thorin smiled and shrugged. “I will treasure you no less ... for I will treasure you always.”

            “Always,” Bilbo said, giving Thorin a kiss that finally drove Dain from the room and giving Thorin and Bilbo what they most wanted; the new day to themselves.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If something is loved ... horde it not ... and set it free. If it flees ... it was never yours. But if it returns ... treasure it always.  
> (The Dwarrow version of the old proverb.)


End file.
